


Whippoorwill

by Starlight1395



Series: Light in the Dark [10]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minho is a choreographer, Minho just wants to make Jisung smile, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Wholesome relationships, jisung is a student, non idol au sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 15:16:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlight1395/pseuds/Starlight1395
Summary: Minho's new neighbor was driving him absolutely insane. The kid wouldn't stop singing when Minho was trying to sleep, and he was this close to snapping and shouting at the boy.Minho quickly learned there was more to this mysterious singing boy that he thought. Soon, the singing that used to irritated him so badly started to soothe him - helped him sleep even.What happens, then, when the singing suddenly stops?





	Whippoorwill

**Author's Note:**

> So this was an idea that my moot Tori (@moonlightcherie) tweeted about forever ago and I screenshotted to write and never did. I was going through my camera roll and was suddenly hit with the inspiration to write this whole thing over the span of a single evening and morning whoops

Minho thought he was going to go insane. It was almost midnight and his damn neighbor was at it again, belting the lyrics to an English song Minho couldn’t understand. Part of him wanted to polish up his English skills, but at the same time he was angry that this kid kept him awake and refused to understand the words out of spite.

He turned around and covered his head with his pillow. Sure, he could close the window, but then he would die of heat stroke. It was June, and the city got hot early in the summer months. Already he was sleeping in nothing but his boxers, his cheap box fan blowing directly on him. He had air conditioning, but he wanted to wait until it got worse before breaking it out and ruining his electric bill.

Minho frowned and threw his covers off before storming over to his open window. He sucked in a deep breath, ready to shout at the person, when it finally registered how… broken the kid sounded.

The words were foreign, but the emotion behind them was clear as day. Minho let the breath out with a frown and let himself listen for a moment. As annoying at the kid was, his voice was beautiful. The raw feeling of the rising and falling notes made something in Minho’s chest hurt.

Who was this kid? The singing had only started a week or so ago, and since then Minho had been having trouble sleeping. So many times he was tempted to yell across the small gap of an alley between their windows, but he always managed to fall asleep before that urge got too strong.

The cool summer breeze danced through Minho’s bangs as he closed his eyes and listened a little longer. It was a song he had definitely heard at some point, but the meaning was lost on him. He wondered if the boy spoke any Korean at all. The city was known for drawing lots of people from around the world due to the amount of schools in the area.

The kid sounded no older than him, so he was probably a student at one of the colleges nearby. Minho wondered what his major might be. Probably singing, or some sort of performance. Maybe song writing like his friend Chan that lived across the street in another apartment complex.

Minho felt his eyes grew heavy and finally let himself climb back into bed. His head hit the pillow and he felt all the tension drain from his body. The boy continued to sing, but this time it was something soft - sounded like a love song.

Minho drifted off to the sound of the boy singing.

* * *

  
For the first time in almost two weeks, Minho was ready to yell at his neighbor again. For the past fourteen days, the boy’s singing was actually kind of soothing. He found himself falling asleep easier as the days went on, his neighbor’s soft voice lulling him into a gentle slumber. Now, however, Minho had to finish the choreography for his boys - he was lucky enough to get a job as a choreographer at one of the big entertainment companies in the city. He normally had the whole dance done within hours, but he was stuck - which was extra stressful because this was going to be debut choreo and this could make or break these kid’s careers.

He wanted to finish at least the chorus, but the boy’s singing kept interrupting Minho’s concentration. It was eleven fifty three, and Minho was supposed to be teaching this new choreography at five am sharp, and it wasn’t even done. He started the song over, turning the volume on his headphones up louder and trying to work out the part that kept messing him up. Just as he was getting to that part, his neighbor decided to belt a high note and throw Minho off, even with headphones on. Minho was done. He ripped the headphones out and stormed over to the window.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” he yelled, his eyes started to sting. God, he couldn’t afford to cry right then. He had too much to do. “I have to finish working and you never shut u-up!” His voice cracked on the final word, hot tears running down his cheeks.

He thought he would have felt better after getting that off his chest, but instead he felt a million times worse. He sobbed into his hand and started to turn away when a soft voice stopped him.

“I’m sorry.” The boy said, barely loud enough for Minho to hear. Minho felt his heart drop. So the boy did understand Korean after all.

The dancer didn’t respond and put his headphones back in, desperately hoping he would be able to focus a little better after his breakdown.

As shitty as he felt, he was able to finish the entire dance. Unfortunately, he finished just as he was supposed to be going to the studio. His whole body sagged in exhaustion, but he only needed to make it through a few hours of teaching and then he could come home and sleep for as long as he wanted.

He made himself a cup of coffee with extra sugar before throwing on some lightweight clothes and running from his apartment. As he raced out the front door of his building, he slammed into someone going in.

“Shit, sorry.” Minho said, quickly helping the boy up. The kid looked at him with wide eyes but before he could say anything, Minho was running down the street. He thought briefly how the kid kinda looked like a squirrel, but soon the thought was brushed aside to make room for more pressing matters.

By the time Minho made it home, he was on the verge of tears again. What was only supposed to be three two-hour practices ended up taking him almost eight hours. He had to make up some excuse to leave before he snapped at any of the trainees - or rather, snapped at any of them again. He already felt bad that he made one of the boys lined up to debut cry with his harsh reprimands, and he didn’t want a repeat of that.

As much as he wanted to sleep, he knew he needed to eat first. Minho moved around his kitchen like a zombie, his sore feet shuffling on the tile as he tossed random things onto the counter.

“Maybe I should just eat a big breakfast…” He muttered to himself, honestly feeling too tired to even eat. He sighed and started to microwave some freezer dinner he had bought at the convenience store when they were on sale. As the microwave hummed, he rearrange the other things he pulled out back into the fridge. He finished at the same time as his dinner and he could have cried at how good it smelled.

“Jesus fuck this is amazing.” He moaned into the cheesy noodles. Never before had a two dollar meal tasted so good. It blew all the other take out he ever had out of the water. Minho scarfed it down, only pausing for a moment when he couldn’t tell if he was going to burp or throw up, and quickly started shoveling the food into his mouth when it turned out to be just a burp.

Minho sighed happily as he tossed the container into the trash and shuffled to his bathroom. The hot water was even more blissful than the microwaved food, getting all the tight knots out of his shoulders. He felt himself on the verge of tears again, this time because of how tired he was and how amazing the scalding water felt.

He didn’t want to leave the warmth of the shower, but he realized he was swaying dangerously. He decided that almost slamming his face on the wall was a good sign to get out of the shower and go to bed.

Minho regretfully turned off the water and dried himself off, wrapping the towel around his waist before going to his bedroom. The air was sticky and hot, and Minho didn’t want to bother with clothes that were just going to be soaked come morning. He decided he could do with a change of sheets at some point tomorrow, so he climbed into bed naked.

The cool sheets felt amazing on his flushed skin, and he felt a laugh bubble up from how good his bed felt. Sex who? Never heard of her.

As tired as he was, Minho found himself unable to fall asleep and he didn’t know why. Everything was the same in his room. There was no extra light to keep him up. His fan was running so the white noise would drown out the sounds of cars below. He wasn’t too hot or too cold. So why couldn’t he fall asleep.

Minho sat up when he realized. With a sinking stomach, he went to the window and listened carefully.

For the first time in weeks, the boy wasn’t singing.

And it was Minho’s fault.

Minho frowned and slipped back into bed, beating himself up. Whoever this kid was, he was obviously going through some shit based on how he sounded when he sang, and Minho went and shouted at him to shut up.

“I really fucked up…” Minho whispered to himself, the silence pressing down on him until it was hard to breathe.

He rolled over and closed his eyes again, but not before making a plan to fix things come morning.

* * *

  
“To the boy in apartment 4C,” Minho wrote on a piece of notebook paper that he ripped from his favorite pad. It had pink ink and little cartoon cats in the corners. “I’m sorry for yelling last night. I was stressed because of a deadline, but that was no excuse to take it out on you. I actually really like your singing. I’m sorry if I was the reason you stopped. Please take care of yourself. -Lee Minho, apartment 4M.”

He reread the letter with a smile. It was the third time he wrote it. The first two times sounded too creepy, or a little too friendly, and the last thing Minho wanted to do after shouting at the kid was to make him think the dancer was some sort of pervert.

He picked up the bag that was sitting on his table and slipped the note into it. He had gone and gotten a few items he thought might cheer the boy up - a fruity energy drink, some candy, a little fake succulent in a cute little bowl, a black fabric facemask with a cat mouth on it, a little notepad with some cartoon character that was only vaguely familiar to Minho but he still found cute regardless and a pack of colorful gel pens.

Minho went up to the boy’s apartment and hesitated. Should he knock?

He decided knocking was a bad idea and just hung the bag on the handle of the door before turning and speed walking away. As he was going down the stairs, he passed the boy from before. The boy didn’t make eye contact with Minho, but the dancer was able to get a better look as he passed.

The boy was definitely younger than him, maybe twenty at most. He had adorable round cheeks and longer hair that was dyed an orangey-blonde - not that Minho could really see from under the baseball cap the boy had perched on the top of his head.

Minho didn’t think much of the boy and went back to his apartment. It was his day off, and by god was he going to enjoy it.

He started with cleaning. As much as he hated the action of cleaning, the feeling after everything was done was euphoric. He turned on his music and got started in the kitchen, wiping down the counters, cleaning out the fridge, doing the dishes and mopping the floors. In the living room he just vacuumed and adjusted the pillows to make it look like company was coming. He never bothered to dust. Too much work.

The bathroom was the second hardest room to clean, after his own room. He wiped down the toilet and the sink, mopped the floor and got all the hairs sticking to the shower walls off. He hadn’t realized how disgusting his bathroom was, but in his defense he was a twenty five year old man who lived alone and rarely had company. Can you blame him?

The bedroom was the biggest challenge. He gathered his dirty clothing in his laundry basket and carried it out to the small washer that was stacked on top of the dryer in his hall closet. He threw half the load in and went back to collect all the dishes scattered about.

“Should have done this first.” He scowled at the sink - which was been spotless moments before, but was now filled to the brim again. He changed his sheets and threw the old ones into the hall for the second load of laundry and put a new set on. This was his favorite sheet set - pink and white with flowers. Sure, he was a grown ass man, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy cute sheets.

The easiest part was throwing things away. Old wrappers, empty cans, clothing he ripped and told himself he would repair but didn’t, anything and everything that he decided wasn’t worth keeping anymore. By the end, the trash bag was filled and his room was finally clean. Minho lit one of his favorite candles before going to switch his laundry. He left he trash bag in the kitchen to take care of later and plopped down on his couch.

It had taken almost four hours, but his apartment was clean and he felt insanely better. Maybe this would be the time he really went through with his self promises to keep up with the cleaning so it wouldn’t take as long next time. As Minho sat on the couch and sunk into the softness, he realized he would never keep that promise.

He started to doze a little, the warm summer air coming in through his perpetually opened windows. He knew he should close them when he got up, to trap the cool night air in, but then his apartment got stuffy so he let it breathe.

Light singing drifted in on the breeze, and Minho instantly shot up. He scrambled to the window and grinned, listening to the boy sing again. He still couldn’t understand the words to the song, but something about the tone seemed almost lighter than before. Minho’s lips curled up into a smile as he sat by the window and listened.

He fell asleep there with his arms pillowing his head on the windowsill, to the sound of the boy’s voice. He didn’t wake up when the boy stopped singing, or when the sound of curtains being opened across the way filled the suddenly silent air.

“So that’s what you were doing,” A light chuckle followed. “Thank you for the snacks.”

The boy closed his window, leaving Minho sleeping peacefully in silence.

* * *

  
_“Hello there. Is anyone there? Where is… Is there anyone to answer me? Is anyone there?”_

Minho rolled over, not knowing what woke up him. The boy was singing again, but this time it was in Korean - a mix of Korean and English, but at least Minho could understand what he was saying. In fact, he easily recognized the song. It was from one of the bands at the company he worked for, though he never worked with that band in particular. He was a choreographer, and they didn’t dance at all.

_“You’re disappearing more and more without a sound. From me, without a reason. Was everything a misunderstanding? Were we looking at each other in a dream?”_

Minho felt his heart drop. The kid… his voice shook as he sang, as if he was holding back tears.

_“Why am I alone? Among all the people surrounding me? Why am I alone? I’m all alone, I need somebody… I need somebody…”_

The boy stopped singing, and for a few moments all that Minho could hear was soft sobbing, as if he was trying his hardest not to let anyone hear him. Minho felt a hot tear work it’s way down his own cheek. He didn’t even know this kid, but he could tell he was hurting. The boy was hurting and Minho wished there was something he could do.

He waited for the boy to start singing again, but the only thing that he heard was the soft sobbing soften even more until there was silence. Minho turned over and rubbed his eyes roughly.

He wanted to help the kid, but how? He didn’t know who the singer was, or what he was going through. Was it even his place to reach out to him? The letter and treats was one thing - that was an apology. What right did he have to try and barge into a stranger’s life just because he thought the boy sounded lonely?

Minho didn’t sleep well that night.

* * *

  
Minho started leaving little treats for the boy with little notes attached. At first is was a batch of cookies he made with a little note complimenting his singing and asking if he knew any other songs from the band he was singing the night before.

That night, the boy sang three different songs from Day6, and any worry that Minho might have gotten the wrong apartment were instantly gone.

The next night, Minho made an extra portion of dinner and delivered it - still hot - to the boy, leaving the wrapped plate outside the door with a note commenting on how Minho worked with that band. He realized after walking away that maybe it was too personal, but at the same time he didn’t want to be a complete stranger to the boy.

That night he sang another English song. It was somber and sad and beautiful, and the boy put so much emotion into it Minho wanted to sob. This time, Minho used his phone to figure out what it was and looked up a translation. His stomach dropped again.

The Hanging Tree, from that movie that came out a few years prior.

The next day, Minho bought some snacks and fuzzy socks, leaving a note rambling on for a few lines about how his English isn’t great but he could still understand the emotion the boy put into the songs.

That night, another Korean song.

_“Loser, loner. A coward who pretends to be tough. A mean delinquent. In the mirror you’re just a loser. A loner. A jackass covered in scars, dirty trash.”_

Minho wanted to cry again. Something about the way he sang sounded too… real. Like he genuinely believed the things he was singing. He wanted to shout at the boy that he was amazing and talented and that he shouldn’t think that way about himself because it’s a guarantee that he’s a good kid who deserves loves and happiness, but he doesn’t.

He doesn’t interrupt the song. Not again.

Things went on like this for weeks - Minho leaving some sort of treat and a note outside the boy’s door before he went to work, or after he got home before he got ready for bed. Sometimes the boy would sing a song that had something to do with something he wrote in the note. One night Minho talked about how he accidentally set his breakfast on fire, and that night the boy sang Fire by BTS - something that was a little bit of a surprise to Minho because he was used to soft songs coming from the other apartment.

Another note talked about how Minho had gotten stuck in a downpour on the way home from work and the boy sang She’s in the Rain by The Rose.  
Minho liked the little game they were playing. He looked forward to seeing what the boy would sing, how it would relate to the note he sent. It was like an odd pen pals type relationship, where Minho would write a note, then try to decipher what the boy was trying to say from his songs.

Things, as they often do, didn’t stay good. Soon, the songs the boy sang turned somber again, and Minho’s worry spiked. He stopped singing songs that related to Minho’s notes. His lyrics were suddenly filled with worrying messages - about hurting and dying and forgetting your pain. His words were suddenly shaky again, cutting off only to be replaced by sobs. Minho tried to cheer him up, but he started to find his treats untouched outside of the boy’s door. One time turned into two, which turned into three until

Minho found his bag from the day before still hanging from the doorknob each time.

He never stopped though. He would go and change the snacks and note each day, hoping the boy would come out and get them.

Minho frowned. It had been almost a week since the boy had accepted any of his treats, and he was more than worried. He wasn’t even sure what he boy looked like, and yet it felt like a close friend had suddenly dropped off the face of the earth. The only way he knew the kid was even still there was the haunting singing that would fill the night air.

Like clockwork, the boy started to sing around ten. His songs would get progressively sadder and more emotional until he ended in sobs. Minho wanted to reach out, but he didn’t know how.

He turned over, almost afraid to hear what song the boy was going to sing that night. When no song came, Minho sat up. He listened closely, but the only singing came from the Whippoorwill outside his window, the bird crying out in the eerie way Minho had become so familiar with.

Minho closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep, but something was telling him to get out of bed. He threw the blankets off and rushed out of his apartment in his socks, boxers and oversized t-shirt, not entirely sure where he was headed.

His feet took him down a familiar path, and soon he was standing in front of the boy’s door. He didn’t know why he was there, why his body brought him there. Just as he was about to turn away, he heard soft crying coming from inside the apartment.

Instinct took over. Minho didn’t even think as he tried to door, the handle turning silently. He let himself in, his own heartbeat so loud he wondered if the boy could hear it.

The boy’s apartment was exactly like his own, just mirrored, so Minho knew where everything was - and how he knew the room with the only light shining from it was the bathroom. The realization made his stomach drop.

Minho rushed forward, only to stop himself before he threw the door open. How was he going to explain himself? What if he was overreacting, and he just broke into some poor kid’s house?

A violent sob broke him from his thoughts. It wasn’t the soft cries Minho had unfortunately gotten so used to, but a vicious one that made the dancer’s ribs hurt just listening to it. There was the sound of a gasp, metal clinking on tile and another loud sob.

Minho threw the door open.

The boy looked up at him in horror and tried to scramble back, his arm pressed tightly against his chest.

“Who the fuck-?”

“Shit, oh my god okay you’re bleeding really badly,” Minho started to panic as he took in the scene in front of him. The boy, with a blotchy face from crying and his wrist slit open, blood dripping onto the tiled floor without any sign of stopping. “I have to call an ambulance-”

“NO!” The boy shouted, making Minho actually look at him. His hair was a mess - greasy and wild as if he had been running his fingers through it. His cheeks - once round - looked sunken. His face was pale but his eyes were wide with pain and fear. “Please don’t call an ambulance!”

“Shit- fuck, okay I know some basic first aid…” Minho bit his lip and he knelt in front of the boy. “Can I see your arm?”

“Go away.”

“Please, I just want to help.”

“It’s too late to help me.” More tears ran down his face.

“My name is Minho,” He said softly, hoping to calm the boy down. “You’re the boy that always sings, yeah? I hope you liked the treats I left… I didn’t know what you liked and what you didn’t, so I tried getting a variety.”

“Why did you start leaving me things?” He said through his tears, holding his arm tighter to his chest. Minho’s panic doubled when he saw how large the blossom of blood on his shirt was getting.

“At first it was because I felt bad for yelling at you,” Minho kept his voice level as he held his hand out. The boy hesitated before carefully holding his arm out to the older man. “Then… then I heard the songs you were singing and you sounded so sad. I wanted to do something to cheer you up.”

“But why?” The boy’s tears had slowed. He refused to look at his arm as Minho started to dab away the blood. The cuts were deep, but didn’t need stitches as far as Minho could tell. The fact that they were already starting to clot was a good sign.

“Because,” Minho flinched when the boy did. He tried to be gentle as he washed around the wounds, but the boy kept flinching and whimpering. “Because your voice is so beautiful, and I wanted to know what it sounded like when you sang with happiness.”

“That’s stupid…” The boy looked away, but Minho could see a blush warming his cheeks.

“What’s your name?” Minho wanted to keep him talking. A talking boy was a living boy, and even though the cuts weren’t life threatening, all Minho could wonder was what would have happened if he hadn’t followed his hunch. Would the boy have gone farther? Would Minho have woken up to the sound of sirens?

“Han Jisung.” The boy said softly.

“How old are you Jisung?” Minho finally wiped away the last of the blood. The cuts looked horrifying, but at least they had mostly stopped bleeding. There were a few beads of crimson bubbling up along the gouges, but for the most part they were starting to scab already. The must not have been as bad as he first thought.

“Twenty one,” Jisung sniffed again, but this time it didn’t seem like he was going to cry again. “I just moved here a few months ago.”

“Where did you move from?”

“I was living in America. I studied in Malaysia for a few years and went to school in the states. I transferred here for some summer courses, but… but I don’t think I belong here.”

“Why wouldn’t you belong here?” Minho started panicking again. There was nothing under the sink, but he was afraid of moving Jisung before bandaging his arm. The best choice would be for Minho to take the younger boy back to his apartment and patch him up there but again, he was afraid.

“I came here cuz I wanted to be a rapper,” Jisung sounded so small. “I thought I could do it, but it’s so hard. I’m taking classes for song writing, and poetry and stuff. The professors always tear my raps and songs apart and never give me any constructive criticism, just tell me to start over. The other students are all assholes, except this one kid that sits next to me. He always sleeps through our poetry class but is the best one there. His name is Changbin, but he wants his stage name to be SpearB.”

“Tell me more about Changbin.” Minho encourage as he pulled Jisung onto his back. He carried the boy through the dark apartment and out the door as he started to ramble.

“He’s shorter than me, which is wild because I’m already pretty short. He always dresses in black and seems super scary but his phone case is pink and his background is this cheesy picture of his boyfriend. You wouldn’t think someone scary like Binnie would date someone so soft and cute but they look good together.”

Minho listened to Jisung talk, mostly paying attention to how the boy’s words seemed to slur a little. He had been around people who were drunk, and exhausted, and he had a feeling Jisung’s speech was messed up partially from the blood loss, but also from exhaustion. The poor boy looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

He opened his front door and closed it with his foot as he carried Jisung into the bathroom. As he set Jisung down on the toilet, he noticed how his own shirt was stained crimson from where the younger had been holding onto him.

“Can I see your arm again?” Minho asked gently. Jisung nodded, too tired to fight it. Minho gently wiped away any blood that started to stain the younger’s skin since they left the other’s apartment and carefully spread a thin layer of gel across the cuts. He felt his stomach lurch at the feeling of the raised lines under his fingers, but his main focus was making sure Jisung was okay.

When the boy didn’t seem phased by the medication, Minho carefully taped gauze pads over the wounds. Some of the tape was over the fine hairs on Jisung’s arm, and the elder knew it was going to be painful to take it off. He also knew making sure it was wrapped properly took priority over a minor inconvenience like that.

“Stay here for a second, okay?” Minho asked, only receiving a nod from the boy. He stopped in his room first, grabbing new shirts for them both, then the kitchen to grab the plastic wrap.

“What’s that for?” Jisung asked, looking up at Minho with half lidded eyes.

“I’m going to wrap your arm so you can wash up.” Minho gently began to wind the plastic wrap around the bandage. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it would keep most of the water out. As Jisung took his ruined shirt off, Minho ran a warm bath.

It took everything in his power not to break down at the sight of Jisung in his boxers. The boy was scarred from his leg to his ribs, the white and pink and red lines covering most of his tanned skin. His stomach was a mess, the cuts almost hiding how far his ribs stuck out.

“Here, I brought clean clothes if you want to take that off,” He said, trying to keep the horror from his voice. “Is the water too hot?”

“No,” Jisung whispered as he slipped into the water. “It feels good.”

“That’s good,” Minho smiled a little. “Tilt your head back, okay?”

Jisung did as he was told and Minho began running shampoo through his hair. It took two washes but soon the bubbles were rinsed out and conditioner was added. Minho used a little extra, seeing how Jisung probably hadn’t been showering recently. He took a washcloth and added his favorite body wash to it, lathering up the suds before gently running it along Jisung’s shoulders, back and arms - careful to avoid touching the wrappings.

“Here, wash the rest of your body while I go get a clean towel,” Minho handed Jisung the washcloth. “Be careful not to get your other arm wet.”

He left, grabbed the first towel from the pile in his closet and rushed back, not wanting Jisung to be alone for too long. When he opened the door, the boy was running the cloth along his legs. He was concentrating so hard on the action that he jumped when Minho coughed lightly.

“Let’s get you dried, yeah?” Minho asked gently. Jisung nodded and stood, stepping onto the towel Minho left on the floor. Minho made a point to close his eyes until he felt Jisung wrap the towel around himself.

He looked better already. There was a faint flush on his cheeks, and with the several days worth of grime and dirt gone, Jisung looked more alive.  
“I grabbed you some clothes,” Minho pointed to the pile on the edge of the sink. “I’m going to try to salvage your shirt, but I apologize in advance if I can’t get the stains out.”

“Thank you,” Jisung whispered, his voice breaking a little. “For all of this. I don’t know why you’re doing so much to help me but…. Thanks.”

Minho didn’t know what to say so he just nodded. He left the bathroom again and went to the washer. He threw his shirt and Jisnung’s in with the special stain fighting crystals he got as a sample and set it to hot. He didn’t know much about getting out blood stains, so he hoped it was enough.

“Minho?” Jisung poked his head out of the bathroom. The older man jumped, not realized he had gotten lost in his thoughts in front of the washing machine. He turned to the boy with a small smile.

“Sorry, must have zoned out,” He said, going over to Jisung. “Are you hungry?”

“No…” Jisung muttered, looking down.

“Are you tired?”

“Yeah…”

“Come on, you can sleep in my bed,” Minho took Jisung’s hand and gently guided him to the bedroom. The boy’s hand felt so small and cold in his. “If you need anything, I’ll be on the couch-”

“Please don’t go.” Jisung whispered, sounding almost afraid.

“Ah, okay,” Minho waited until the boy was settled before climbing into bed next to him, leaving as much of a gap as his medium sized mattress would allow. “I’ll be right here.”

“Talk to me?” Jisung asked, his eyes downcast.

“I am talking to you silly.” Minho smiled a little at how Jisung’s mouth turned up the slightest bit.

“Tell me about yourself.”

“Me? Well I’m twenty five. I work as a choreographer for idol groups, and most of the time it’s a lot of fun. There’s just something about working with kids who have an actual drive that makes it so rewarding. I used to help out at my old dance school back home and yeah those kids liked it but it was more of a hobby for them. These kids want to do it as a career, and they work so hard. I can teach them a whole song and the next day it’ll be practically perfect. I spent about a year and a half as a backup dancer to one of the bigger idol groups, but I didn’t like how much they traveled and I absolutely hated how badly they got mobbed. Even the staff and dancers kept getting crowded. At one point, one of the boys in the group got shoved and I was so close to losing my shit. I wanted to fight those girls so badly but I couldn’t because I was only a backup dancer, and was even younger than the youngest member of the group.”

“You’re amazing,” Jisung whispered, his eyes growing heavy. “You care about people you don’t even know…”

“Back I was in high school, I was bullied really badly,” Minho felt Jisung tense. “I was called all sorts of awful names, mostly because I was one of the first openly gay kids. More came out after me, but I was one of the first. Anyway, I was bullied so badly I almost dropped out, but one day this boy in the year ahead of me stepped in. He took a hit meant for me and the bullies ran when they saw who it was. His name was Kim Woojin, and I knew of him but didn’t really know him. He helped me up and walked me home. He told me he knew who I was, and wasn’t going to let me get hit ever again. For the rest of that year, he stuck by my side. Even the teachers noticed the scary senior that was my new bodyguard. I haven’t heard from him since he graduated, but without him I… I don’t know what would have happened to me. Thanks to him, I learned to defend myself - he taught me how to be confident and let the comments roll off my back, but also how to throw a punch. After I graduated, I guess I wanted to be someone’s Woojin. I always tried to do little things to help people, even if they would never know it was me. I left snacks in the dressing room of the idols I danced with when I noticed they weren’t eating. I put notes in the bags of the trainees to encourage them when they looked like they were going to give up. I always have spare change for charities or for someone who’s down on their luck. I thought it was pointless at one point, but Woojin said even if I can’t make a difference to the whole world, I can make a difference to a single person and to that person, I did change their whole world.”

“I kept all the notes you gave me,” Jisung said quietly. “I had an empty journal, so I taped them to the pages to keep them in order. It was supposed to be a journal for my bad thoughts, but I could never bring myself to do it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to ruin the nice clean pages with my nasty feelings,” Jisung curled in on himself. “Besides, my thoughts aren’t worth writing down.”

“You know, pain and anger and depression aren’t bad emotions,” Minho said, causing Jisung to look up at him with a confused expression. “Think of it this way, if you were never sad how would you be able to really enjoy being happy? If it’s sunny every single day, the blue skies start to become boring. It’s because of the clouds and the rain that sunny days are so special.”

“I… yeah, I guess. I never really thought of it that way…”

“Have you been going to classes lately?”

“No… I skipped…”

“Summer courses are more compact than regular ones, aren’t they?”

“Yeah… I missed one because I couldn’t get out of bed, then felt so guilty that I didn’t go yesterday or today either… I’m going to fail out of my classes and I’m going to have to go home and tell my dad he was right about me going into music and-” he started to panic, and Minho knew he would have a panic attack if he didn’t distract him.

“In the morning, we’ll email your professors, okay? Tell them you were sick and couldn’t come in for three days. They can’t fault you for being sick, can they?”

“But I wasn’t sick. Just depressed.”

“Your brain is an organ as much as your stomach is. Depression is an illness just like the flu. You don’t have to say what illness you had, just that you were sick and had to focus on getting better before coming back to class.”

“I…” Jisung looked at Minho with wide, wondrous eyes.

“Do you have class tomorrow?”

“No, just Monday through Thursday.”

“Perfect. We’re sleeping in, then I’m making a big breakfast and then we’ll email your teachers. Sound good?”

“What about you? Don’t you have work?” Jisung bit his lip and cured into the bed.

“They owe me at least five vacation days at this point,” Minho grinned. “Don’t worry Sunggie, it’ll be okay.”

“Wh-what?” Jisung quickly looked back up, his eyes filled with tears.

“It’s be okay,” Minho smiled softly, pulling the boy into his chest as he started to cry. “Don’t worry Sunggie, you’re not alone. It’s going to be okay.”

Jisung sobbed into his chest. His arm hurt. His stomach and head hurt. His chest hurt most of all, but Minho was warm and soft and he was too tired to worry about anything, so he cried into Minho’s shirt.

Minho held the boy, whispering comforts until his sobs turned to whistling breaths.Minho looked down and saw that Jisung was fast asleep, tear marks still tacky on his cheeks. He made a mental note to fatten the boy up again - he looked much cuter with round cheeks after all.

He settled himself into bed as best as he could without disturbing the sleeping boy and let himself drift off. He thought it would be hard, falling asleep with someone else in his bed. He hadn’t slept with anyone - romantically or platonically - since he moved into his apartment. He thought the breathing and shuffling and heartbeat that wasn’t his would keep him awake, but it turned out even when he wasn’t singing Jisung was able to help Minho fall asleep.

* * *

  
Minho groaned and rolled over, wondering why he was cramped on one side of the mattress. He buried his face in his pillow and sighed, ready to go back to sleep, when he sat up abruptly.

Jisung was gone.

Minho felt his pulse instantly pick up in fear as he looked around, but there was no sign of the boy. Fearing the worst, Minho scrambled from his bed, only to run face first into someone walking back into the bedroom.

“Ah fuck-” Minho felt his nose as he got a good look at the person. Jisung was holding his forehead, his eyes watering from the sudden impact.

“Hyung what the fuck?” Jisung’s voice was deep and slurred from still being half asleep. Minho didn’t comment on the sudden honorific. He wondered if Jisung even realized he said it with how not awake he was.

“Where did you go?” Minho was very awake now, the adrenaline of waking up alone going to make it impossible to go back to sleep now. Jisung blinked, letting Minho’s words process before responding.

“Uh… bathroom,” He rubbed his eyes sleepily. “Had ta pee.”

“Oh, of course,” Minho felt stupid. He ran a hand through his bangs and laughed a little. “Why don’t you go back to sleep, and I’ll go start breakfast.”

“Come back to bed with me.” Jisung muttered, wrapping his arms around Minho’s waist and resting his cheek on the elder’s shoulder. Minho felt his heart jump. Jisung had been warm last night, but still half asleep Jisung was even warmer. The heat soaked into Minho’s skin and he realized how much he missed being hugged - being touched in any way even.

“Go back to sleep, and I’ll wake you up when breakfast is ready, okay?” Minho guided Jisung back to the bed. The boy blinked and crawled back under the covers, his breathing instantly leveling as soon as his head hit the pillow. Minho smiled softly as he pulled the covers up over his shoulders.

He went to the kitchen and took a deep breath. It was going to be a long day, wasn’t it?

Minho started by calling the company, telling them something came up and he wasn’t going to be in. He knew the trainees he worked with would be able to work without him, and honestly they’d probably be grateful for a more relaxed practice for once.

Once that was settled, he started pulling things from the fridge. He hadn’t gone shopping in a few days, so there wasn’t a huge variety, but he was determined to make do with what he had.

 

He looked at the food in the bowls with a triumphant smile. It had taken almost an hour and a half to get everything ready, but it was a meal his mother would be proud of. Minho washed his hands and went to wake Jisung up.

The boy was sleeping peacefully. He had pulled the blanket up around his head so only his nose and mouth stuck out. Minho smiled at how cute he looked, only for the smile to drop when he noticed how suspiciously damp the blanket around his eyes was. Minho felt his heart break as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Sunggie, come on,” He said gently placing a hand on what he assumed was the boy’s arm. “Breakfast is ready. Don’t want it to get cold.”

“Not hungry.” Jisung whispered, his words barely loud enough for Minho to hear. He curled the blanket closer to his body, making him seem even smaller.

“You have to eat,” Minho frowned again. “I’m not afraid to carry you.”

“Not hungry…” He said again, sounding like he was about to cry. Minho took a deep breath and slid his arms under the bundle of blanket. Jisung shouted, his arms throwing the blanket off him as Minho grinned. He picked the boy up with ease and started walking back towards the kitchen.

Jisung’s arms wrapped around his neck, as if he was afraid Minho was going to drop him. The dancer gently placed him in the seat across from his usual one and moved to sit in his favorite spot. When Jisung just stared at him, Minho used his chopsticks to gesture at the bowl.

“Eat up,” He said with a smile. “I made a lot and I hate leftovers so you better not make me pack any of it up.”

Jisung just stared at him in what could only be described as a mixture of shock and admiration before blinking and picking up his own chopsticks. He took a few small bites before started shoveling it in his mouth. Tears started streaming down his face as he ate, and Minho was worried he was going to choke.

“Slow down, your bowl isn’t going anywhere,” He said with a hint of humor. Jisung looked up, his cheeks puffed out. Minho felt his heart jump again. “You’re going to get a stomach ache if you eat that fast.”

“Ah sorry,” Jisung chewed and swallowed, looking sheepish. “I’ve… I’ve only really had granola bars the last few days. I… couldn’t bring myself to cook, and even if I could have all I really have in my kitchen is instant noodles. I wanted to check if you left me anything, but I felt so guilty that you kept helping me that I couldn’t go look. I kinda hoped if you saw I stopped taking the bags, you’d give up on me too.”

“I left a bag every day,” Minho said as he moved some of his breakfast around in his bowl. “I didn’t know when you were gonna take them again, but I wanted to make sure you had something when you did.”

“Hyung, why did you come to my apartment last night?” Jisung finally asked the question Minho had been dreading.

“I, um… when you weren’t singing I- um, I had a really bad feeling,” Minho admitted, almost bashfully. “My gut was telling me something was wrong, so I went to check on you. I was worried that my hunch was wrong and I was going to burst in on you showering or something.”

“I’m glad you did,” Jisung didn’t look up from his bowl. “I would have just slept in the bathroom and cleaned up the mess in the morning like usual.”

“Like usual…” Minho repeated, his stomach souring. Jisung was too young for bleeding out alone in his bathroom to be usual to him.

“I don’t know how you did it, but I was actually able to sleep last night,” Jisung thankfully changed the subject a little. “My insomnia has been kicking my ass recently.”

“You’re welcome to stay over whenever you want,” Minho didn’t even realize what he was offering until the words were already out of his mouth, but he didn’t want to take them back. “I know I’m busy a lot of the time, but you can come over and help yourself to what’s in my fridge and nap in my bed and all that anytime you want.”

“I couldn’t-”

“I’d be really happy if you did,” Minho cut him off with a soft smile. “It’s not good to be alone, and if you come over it keeps me from isolating myself too.”

“I guess.” Jisung looked away, but Minho could see him smiling.

“Finish up, yeah? When your done we can change your bandage and work on emailing your professors. If they can send what you missed we can work on it over the weekend.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jisung started eating again, this time as a good pace. Minho watched with a smile, proud of the boy sitting across from him.

They went into the bathroom, Jisung sitting on the toilet at Minho pulled out his first aid kit again. He wasn’t sure how often he was supposed to change a bandage like this, but he wanted to check that none of the cuts were openly bleeding. He whispered an apology as he gently peeled back the gauze. The cuts had closed up, expect for those that were reopened from the bandage being removed.

“Oh Sunggie…” Minho breathed sadly as he wiped away the new blood and put another layer of cream across the lines. Jisung, to his credit, didn’t flinch this time. Minho carefully secured another piece of gauze and threw away the used one.

“I’m sorry.” Jisung wouldn’t look at him.

“For what?”

“For making you worry, and for making you take care of me.” Jisung sniffled.

“You didn’t make me do anything,” Minho knelt so he could be at eye level with the boy “I’m going this because I care about you, okay? Don’t you dare feel guilty because you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I just… don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” Minho rested his forehead on Jisung’s and smiled “You just had to be you. That’s all you had to do to deserve happiness.”

Jisung sobbed softly, moving to bury his face in Minho’s shoulder. He rubbed the boy’s back, humming gently.

* * *

  
“Hey, wanna come over?” Minho yelled from his window. The night was suspiciously quiet, and Jisung hadn’t even opened the texts he had sent.

“Be right there.” Jisung called back, but he sounded weird. Minho fought the sinking feeling in his chest as he waited for the younger boy to get there. He had given Jisung his spare key, just in case he needed to get into the apartment when Minho wasn’t there. At first, Jisung wouldn’t take it, but after he had a panic attack in his bathroom and needed to be anywhere but his own apartment, he was more open to the idea.

In less than five minutes, Jisung was toeing off his shoes by the front door and throwing himself next to the dancer on the couch. Minho pulled the boy up onto his lap and hugged him close. He felt Jisung relax instantly as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Bad day?” Minho asked after Jisung seemed less tense.

“Failed a project,” He muttered, scowling. “Professor said my song was too… dark for the prompt.”

“What was the prompt?”

“We were supposed to write a love song,” Jisung’s scowl deepend. “But I’ve never been in love, so I wrote about… longing to experience love. He failed me because it wasn’t what he told us to write.”

“That’s bullshit,” Minho said, feeling anger curl in his chest. “I’d fight that grade. Music is about expressing yourself, and you did. If you had written something sappy, it would have been a lie, and the point of music is… is to be truthful with yourself.”

“I don’t even know if it’s worth fighting,” Jisung sighed. “It’s just one grade. I still have a passing grade, and I can bring it up with future assignments. I’m just… frustrated.”

“You have every right to be frustrated Sunggie,” Minho rubbed his hand down his back, his fingers wrapping around the small boy’s side. He felt something bulky under Jisung’s shirt and froze. “What-?”

“It’s nothing.” Jisung quickly tried to sit up, but Minho held him in place.

“Oh love…” Minho’s heart broke. He didn’t need to look to know what it was. Jisung’s reaction was enough.

“I’m fine,” Jisung muttered, looking ashamed. “It was only a few this time, and they barely bled…”

“I’m proud of you.” Minho pressed a kiss to Jisung’s shoulder, wishing there was another way to show the boy how much he cared.

“Why?” Jisung’s voice was scathing. “I fucked up again. After everything you’ve done for me, I still cut myself. I still… still want to hurt myself every day.”

“But do you?”

“What?”

“Do you hurt yourself every day?” Minho asked, trying to calm the boy back down again.

“No, I haven’t hurt myself since you found me…”

“Exactly. You’ve been working on getting better. You don’t do it as often, and when you do, there aren’t as many and they aren’t as deep. Recovery is a bumpy road. You’re going to stumble, but that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with stumbling a little, as long as you get back up again.”

“I’m sorry hyung,” Jisung started crying. “I don’t want to be sad anymore. I don’t want to hurt myself. I’m sick of feeling this way.”

“It’s okay baby boy, you can cry,” Minho rubbed Jisung’s back as he cried. “There’s nothing wrong with crying.”

“Sorry for breaking down again,” Jisung sniffled after his sobs quieted. “I feel so bad that you’re always comforting me.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Minho smiled warmly. “Do you feel better?”

“Yeah, a little bit.”

“Then I’m glad you came to me. As long as you’re feeling better, that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you…”

“Do you want to take a nap?” Minho asked, noticing how exhausted Jisung looked. He just nodded, curling into Minho’s chest more. Minho smiled and kissed the top of Jisung’s head as the younger fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

* * *

  
“Are you sure about this?” Jisung was dumbfounded.

“Is this your dream? Being a rapper?” Minho asked back.

“More than anything.” Jisung said with such conviction that Minho couldn’t fight back a grin.

“Then it’s settled. Since your lease is up at the end of the month, and you don’t have plans after the summer ends, you’ll move in with me and audition at my company.”

“Won’t I get in trouble for being friends with a worker? They’ll think I got special treatment or something.”

“Trust me, they won’t think that. Especially because it’s me,” Minho laughed at Jisung’s confused face. “A few years ago, my cousin auditioned and made it in. The others expected me to go easy on him, but because he was family I pushed him more than the others.”

“Oh jeez, so you’re going to be rough with me too?” Jisung asked with a snicker. Minho flushed at the younger’s wording but quickly brushed the thought from his head.

“Only if you ask nicely.” Minho found himself saying. He instantly regretted it. This was Jisung, not one of his coworkers that he could jokingly flirt with, no matter how attractive he found the other.

“Just have to ask? Seems easy enough.” Jisung said with a loud laugh. Minho froze for a second before joining in and laughing with the other.

“Come on, let’s go clear some space in the bedroom for you.” Minho stood, his knees cracking loudly.

“Careful old man, don’t want you breaking a hip.” Jisung stuck his tongue out as Minho shouted and chased after him. He managed to catch the younger in the bedroom, pinning him to the bed and grinning down at him.

“Who’s the old man?” Minho teased, tightening his grip on Jisung’s wrists slightly.

“Hyung…” Jisung’s voice sounded breathless. Minho realized the position they were in - Jisung pinned under him, face flushed and eyes darkening - and his cheeks exploded in a hot blush. He quickly sat up and rubbed the back of his head.

“So, uh, yeah,” Minho stuttered, turning to his closet. “I’ve been meaning to clean out my closet. You’re welcome to anything I throw on the bed. Since your lease is up in a few days, we can start moving your things in soon. I’ll have to go put your name on my lease, I guess.”

“Hyung, look at me?” Jisung asked sweetly. Minho could feel how close Jisung was, and was almost afraid to turn around. After a moment of internal battling, he turned. Jisung was inches from his face, an angelic smile plastered on his round cheeks.

Before Minho could say anything, Jisung leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Minho’s lips. It was over before either could deepen it, but it was enough to make Minho’s heart beat out of control.

“You were saying? About the lease?” Jisung asked innocently, but Minho couldn’t respond. His brain was still short circuiting. Jisung giggled and god did the sound make Minho’s heart stutter.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” Minho muttered, turning back to his closet and pulling various shirts from the hangers.

Jisung laughed again as he started folding the clothing Minho threw on the bed.

* * *

  
"Hy-hyung I can’t- I can’t do it.” Jisung sobbed, clawing at his arms. He only moved in a few days ago, but seemed to be adjusting well. Until the night before his audition that was.

“You’re going to be okay Sunggie.” Minho whispered, pulling Jisung into his chest so the boy couldn’t scratch his arms anymore. There were already bruises in the shape of scratches forming, and at one spot he managed to break through the skin.

“I’m not good enough,” His breathing was getting more erratic. “I’m not going to pass and I’m going to have to go home and leave you and-”

“You’re going to pass the audition,” Minho didn’t want to think about how his stomach flipped at how Jisung didn’t want to leave him. “I’ve seen kids with half the talent you have make it through. You’ve been practicing like crazy. I’ve heard you, and I can guarantee you’re exactly what they’re looking for.”

“But what if I don’t pass?”

“Then you keep practicing and you audition again. This isn’t a one time thing baby. They have auditions three times a month. Hypothetically, if you were to fail - which you absolutely won’t - you can audition again before the month is over.”

“I love you hyung.” Jisung whimpered, burying his face in Minho’s chest.

“I love you too Sunggie.” He whispered back, fighting tears of his own.

As much as Jisung has been getting better, Minho wished there was more he could do. Jisung still had trouble sleeping, and his depression made it hard for him to get out of bed sometimes. Minho had been looking into therapists in the area, but he wasn’t sure how Jisung would take to the idea of going to a professional about everything.

“Can we go to bed?” Jisung asked after a few moments of silence. “The audition is super early…”

“Remember what I said? About coming home after the audition without me?”

“Yeah, it’s gonna suck walking home alone but I know you have that meeting.”

“Ah, you’re amazing. Let’s go to bed, yeah?” Minho carried Jisung to their shared bedroom. He carefully placed Jisung down before climbing in himself and the younger instantly curled into his side. As he fell asleep, Minho wondered how he ever managed to sleep alone before.

* * *

  
“You ready?” Minho asked, holding Jisung’s hand.

“I think so.” Jisung smiled nervously. His palm was clammy in Minho’s hand but the elder didn’t mind.

“I know you’re going to blow them away,” Minho leaned in and pressed a kiss to Jisung’s cheek, making the younger giggle a little. “I have to get to my lesson, but I’ll see you at home okay? Text me if you need anything.”

“I will hyung,” Jisung grinned brightly. “I’ll see you at home. Have fun with your lessons.”

“I’ll do my best too.” Minho laughed and gave Jisung one last hug before going to the practice rooms.

The lessons were hard to focus on. He kept mixing up moves and having to reteach them several times before they fit with the music right. It got to the point where one of the boys actually asked if he was okay.

“Yeah, just a little distracted,” Minho said with an embarrassed smile. “My friend is auditioning today and I’m nervous for him even though I know he’s going to do well.”

“Maybe he’ll join our group,” the boy grinned. “If he’s good enough that you know he’s going to do good, he must be phenomenal.”

“He really is.” Minho’s smile softened as he thought of Jisung’s face while he sang - how the emotions in his voice mirror the emotions in his eyes and mouth and cheeks as he performed.

“Hyung is in looooove~” One of the other trainees cooed, causing everyone to laugh.

“Ya! Get back to work,” Minho flushed red. “Stop talking about my love life and focus on your footwork! It’s sloppy!”

By the time the lessons were finished, Minho was wound so tight he thought he was going to snap. He checked his phone but didn’t see anything from Jisung, which made his stomach drop. Did something happen? There was no way he didn’t make it, but why didn’t the younger say anything?

He rushed home, panic mounting with every step he took. Why did he leave Jisung alone? Even if he was confident in the boy, there always was a small chance he might not have made it, and Minho left him alone with that chance.

What if he went home and Jisung wasn’t even there? Or worse, what if Jisung was there, bleeding out on the bathroom floor because Minho wasn’t there for him-

“Hyung? You’re back early.” Jisung sounded upset when Minho threw the door open.

“Sunggie are you-” Minho stopped when he looked around the apartment. There were streamers and balloons hanging from every surface in a way that was so unorganized and so Jisung. The boy in question was standing on the back of the couch, trying to attach more streamers to the ceiling.

“Ah! Wait don’t look! It’s supposed to be a surprise!” Jisung shouted, throwing the roll of streamers at the elder.

“Jisung, what…?”

“I wanted to surprise you!” Jisung hopped down from the couch and instantly ran to Minho’s arms. “I passed. They said my rapping was the best they’ve heard in a long time, and my singing sounded polished. They were really shocked when they found out the only lessons I’ve ever had were over the summer.”

“You… passed- oh my god Jisung!” Minho picked him up and spun him around. Jisung laughed happily as he held onto to the elder. As soon as Jisung’s feet touched the ground, Minho captured his lips in a kiss. He held onto the younger’s waist firmly as he poured all his love and pride and happiness into the kiss, and judging by the way Jisung seemed to melt into the touch, it was working. Minho pulled away just enough for his words to brush against Jisung’s lips. “I’m so fucking proud of you. I knew you could do it.”

“I never would have been able to do it without you.” Jisung’s eyes turned glassy, but his grin stretched from ear to ear.

“So proud.” Minho hugged him tight, never wanting to let him go.

“I ordered us dinner,” Jisung laughed as he pulled away. “And I got some drinks to celebrate.”

“You’re amazing.” Minho stared at Jisung, taking in how the boy seemed to glow with happiness. It seemed to radiate from every cell of his body, and Minho realized in that moment that he was absolutely, head over heels in love he was with Han Jisung.

* * *

  
It took less than a year, but Minho was standing behind the stage with Jisung - who was about to debut. He quickly found his place in a group, being named main rapper and lead singer before even officially debuting.

“I’m so proud of you.” Minho sniffed, trying his hardest not to cry.

“It’s all because of you.” Jisung grinned, fidgeting with the mic in his hands.

“I barely did anything-”

“You saved my hyung,” Jisung said, looking Minho straight in the eyes. “If you hadn’t… come into my life, I honestly don’t know if I’d even still be alive, let alone about to debut.”

“Sunggie…”

“I was in a really fucking dark place,” Jisung continued, swallowing thickly. “I… I thought about stepping into traffic, or taking a bottle of sleeping pills almost every day. I didn’t want to be alive anymore… then you literally charged into my life head first. You took care of me and told me you were proud of me… no one’s been proud of me in years.”

“I love you so much.” Minho couldn’t stop the tears that ran down his cheeks. Jisung smiled, but Minho could see he was about to cry himself.

“I love you too.” He threw his arms around Minho’s neck and hugged him tightly. Minho wrapped his arms around the boy’s waist, careful not to mess up his wardrobe or makeup. As Jisung pulled away, Minho decided the color they put on Jisung’s lips didn’t look right.

He kissed Jisung, biting his bottom lip as he pulled the rapper’s hips flush with his own. He didn’t break away until he heard the others around them getting ready to go on stage. Jisung’s cheeks were flushed, and his lips were the perfect shade of red.

“Go blow them away.” Minho grinned, pressing a final kiss to Jisung’s forehead. Jisung grinned and nodded, holding his mic firmer and rushing on stage.

**Author's Note:**

> IDK if anyone has whippoorwills near them, but they're honestly kind of creepy. I'm used to them, and I think they sound beautiful but my friend from the city came to stay and she thought they were zombie birds because they were singing at midnight.
> 
> I'll be update Even Diamonds Crack soon, I promise. I just suddenly had the overwhelming urge to write this and I couldn't stop until it was done! I was thinking of splitting it into chapters, but my dear son Michael said oneshot so here we are XD


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